Anomaly
by LoveKricket
Summary: Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass…it's about learning to dance in the rain.
1. Phantasm

**Anomaly**

**Chapter One: Phantasm**

Alrighty! This is a continuation of my three shot ("Revolved")

Puck x Kurt x all the other gleeks

It probably not necessary to read Revolved, you'll get the just of it in the beginning…I think…that's my plan…but please, feel free to read it!

Any suggestions just review. And if you don't have a suggestion, review anyways.

Also Know that I don't own *any* of glee. ENJOY!

**The darkest hour is right before the dawn breaks.**

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"_Kurt. I. I-" his chest hitched and he started gasping, hand digging painfully into Kurt's shoes and the other trying to push the hard hands off his chest._

_Kurt started to panic, breathe hitching in his chest and hands shaking over the wound, "Puck? Puck!" Puck's eyes rolled and Kurt pressed harder to his chest, shocking the football player and screaming his name, "Noah!"_

"_I love you."_

"_Noah!"_

"_Noah!" _

"_Noah?" Kurt let go of the white material, shaking forcefully on the muscular shoulder, "Noah? Wake up? Please?" Kurt stared at the glossy, unseeing eyes, horror rocking his very soul. _

"_Son? You going to be alright?" the annoying police officer pulled him away from Noah, allowing a team of other officers at the body. They grabbed his hands and his feet before lifting him on to a waiting stretched that was lined with a thick blueish-black material. _

_He watched, shaking and crying as they zipped it past the nose, hiding the Mohawk behind the thick material. _

"_No! You can't take him!" Kurt struggled against the firm hold of the officer, finally (accidently) elbowing him in the face and stumbling away. _

_He raced through the aisles and out the door, past the dead children and the head-less Rachel into the rain soaked parking lot._

_Only to find it deserted. Suddenly, everything vanished and he was alone in the blackness, a single ray of red light falling on a foreign object._

_Kurt swallowed dryly, the base of his stomach knowing what the object was, and as he neared it, he knew he was right. Reaching down, he gingerly picked up the beat up red and white baseball cap, the stitching around it a strange gold that glittered in the spot light. Turning it on his hand, he followed the seams to wear the embroidered 20 should have been, to find it missing. That's when he realized it. He wasn't just dead, he was erased._

He thrashed around under the thick black quilt, suffocating under the weight of the feather before he was finally able to push it off his heavily sweated body. He clicked on the bedside light, disgruntled to find it only two o'clock in the morning.

Sliding his silk legs off the bed and pressing the gentle calluses of his toes to the white carpet. He jumped fully of the bed, reaching his fingers out to trace them lightly along the wall in the dim flood of light. Reaching blindly in front of him, Kurt twisted the door knob and slid into the bathroom.

He blinked rapidly to clear the shock of the bright light off the rooms flash. Placing two hands on either side of the sink, he leaned in heavily and stared at his rough lines.

Dark bags under his eyes, deep lines that showed no signs of a smile, hair stickling up in all sorts of ugly angles. Two weeks since the shooting. From what he could tell, everyone was 'repairing', as his father liked to call it, quickly. Rachel was just as brightly annoying, and Puck had gotten the bullet removed, proudly flaunting his "war wound" when ever possible.

But than again, he acted like he was normal too, and yet he stood here every night, rough and haggard after nightmares of different stature. Sometimes Puck wasn't the one who was shot; occasionally Willis would blow his own brains out after killing various shoppers, never including him, for some reason. He always seemed to be alone in the end, surround by nothing but that stupid hat.

He started the water in the shower and peeled off his pajamas, taking longer than necessary for the black tops buttons, for his hands were shaking so immensely that they seemed to slip off the button once they got a hold of the plastic.

But finally, the silk sat in a pile on the floor, and Kurt stood shivering under the hot spray of water. Letting the water soak thickly through his hair and whispering across his pale skin. He was in no rush, it was 2'oclock after all, and his father was a deep sleeper.

Unfortunately, there was no way that he would get any sleep now, so and hour and a half later – when the water had finally grown cold – he stepped from the bathroom and donned his fuzzy, navy blue robe and crawling onto the couch, wrapping a thinly knitted blanket around his thin shoulders.

Reaching to the left, he grabbed the thick black controller and flicked on the television, happy to see that the Shopping Channel was conveniently on.

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"Kurt! Hurry it up!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a second!" Kurt called back, quickly applying a thick layer of foundation. Usually he opposed to so much, but the bags had to go, and with two finger strokes they disappeared.

"There he is!" Kurt walked up the stairs, waving to the teens on the couch, and heading over to grab a mug of tea while pressing a kiss to Carol's cheek.

"Good Morning, Dad, Carol."

"Morning, son," his father called over his newspaper, shoveling a spoonful of grapefruit into his mouth and swallowing it painfully. "What are you boys doing today?"

Finn jumped up from his spot on the couch juggling a pile of DVD's, "Uh, we were kinda hoping to just chillax. We didn't get much sleep…"

Puck snorted and covered his mouth with his hand, while extending a second to fist pump with Finn.

"Sure, go ahead and use the big screen," Burt waved a hand, but Carol and Finn exchanged a worried look.

Finn frowned and glanced at Puck, "Actually, we wanted to watch Tigerland, but it's at our place, so we were going to watch on the living room…"

"Sure sweetie, go ahead! We'll be here!"

"Actually, I got something planned."

Finn and Puck glanced over their shoulders but continued out the front door, Kurt shared a bold smile with Burt, and a wink with Carol before bouncing out the door and after the boys. "Artie and Mike are meeting us there."

"I can drive myself, thanks anyways," Kurt walked past the truck, heading to his own vehicle and fishing the keys out of his satchel.

But Finn grabbed his arm, spinning his on the heel of his shiny limited-edition Marc Jacobs boots, "Nah, dude it's easier if you drive with us."

"Oh, do explain! For Puck will be staying over night at our destination, and I have to be coming back here. By myself."

"Oh contraire my friend," Kurt's eyebrows shot up at the use of a 'big' word, and Finn grinned goofily. Somehow, Kurt knew that Rachel Berry had something to do with that. "I have to come back to pick up my mom, the cars at the garage."

"And we wanted to raid you're videos." Puck held up a few as evidence.

Kurt sighed heavily and shoved his keys grudgingly back into his pocket. Finn grinned and swung the door open, waiting patiently as Kurt slid into the center, wincing his eyes shut as Finn jumped in and took up the majority of the space.

The ride to Finn's was a quiet one; actually, it was quite awkward. Finn was much too big for the middle, and _technically_ there wasn't actually a third seat. Kurt really wished that they had just let him drive there.

Because being squished tightly to your ex-crush - turned brother that knew about said crush - and your ex-boyfriend - who had recently been shot - was quite the unpleasant predicament.


	2. Fell for You

**Anomaly**

**Chapter Two: Fell for You**

Puck x Kurt x all the other gleeks

Alright. I got enough follows to start caring, but I am sorry for the delay. I think my teachers are out to get me.

Please Review… Thanks 3

I don't own *any* of glee. ENJOY!

**There's always a little truth behind every "just kidding"; a little knowledge behind every "I don't know"; a little emotion behind every "I don't care"; a little pain behind every "it's okay".**

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Kurt sat quietly on the couch, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

There! A feint rush of water, the door snapping shut, the fan starting. Kurt stood quietly, inching towards the stairs and glancing around the room. Eyes falling on the past out brother, folded and tumbled over the corduroy couch, foot twitching from the armrest it hung off, blanket slipping to the floor.

How it happened, he would never know. Somehow Finn had stayed the night, and not called Kurt any rude names. They had met a truce, of sorts, but my no means did Kurt expect Finn to sleep in his room.

He didn't get a wink of sleep. Maybe half an hour between the hours of three and four, but other than that, he stayed up all night. On the plus side, he finished all his homework. Unfortunately, half an hour wasn't quiet equivalent to the seven and a half his beauty sleep required. No doubt he looked like a zombie.

He wrapped his robe tightly around his waist, slouched over to the coffee maker and downed a cup of black coffee before pouring a second cup and placing it haphazardly on the tiled counter of the island.

Sliding onto a tall stool, he flipped through a Christmas catalog; it was one from last year, so it was _atrocious_. Worst combinations ever. Seriously, he could just go burn them right know if he wasn't so damned tired.

"Kurt? What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Oh, hello Carol!" Kurt spun on his stool, turning to face the mother in a pink fuzzy robe and matching slippers. "Your son snores." And that wasn't, by any means what so ever. If Kurt didn't know the real reason for a sleepless night, he would have blamed it on Finn snoring any day.

Carol giggled and helped herself to the coffee, sitting across from his and forcing him to close the catalog politely. Luckily, he was saved from the awkwardness when both Burt and Finn joined them, flopping onto their own stools and sighing loudly.

Kurt placed his head in his hands, just over the coffee and allowed the strong fumes to lick at his face. Fill his pores and wake him up ever so slightly.

"So what are you boys doing tonight?"

Kurt inhaled and puffed into his cup, the steam billowing over the edges and leaving a slight precipitate on the counter, "Glee. Just a short meeting, I think."

"Puck wanted to hang out after maybe get a bite to eat at Bread Sticks after."

"That sound like fun, darling."

Kurt yawned widely and plopped off the stool, abandoning his coffee and dragging his feet back to his door. His father might have called after him, but he continued down the stairs, letting his eyelids slide down and slumping onto his bed. When conversation turned to Puck, it was usually safer to just leave.

The mattress sighed and Kurt peeked a lid open to see Finn attempt to fold himself into a sitting position on the large bed.

"He, uh, he wants you to come."

Kurt scrunched up his nose at the thought of yet another Puck, Finn, him moment, "uh, no."

"He's seeing a counselor, you know."

Kurt groaned and rolled into a sitting position, glaring over the black quilt and "He broke up with me. Remember?"

"I know," Kurt winced and looked at his toes, trying to push out the thought of crying into Finn's shoulder out of his head. "But once he's back on his feet-"

"Finn. Shut up. Please, just _shut up_." He shut his eyes and sank them deep into the heels of his heads, vaguely hearing Finn tromp back up the stairs and click the door shut.

Sighing, he lay back in his bed, allowing his arm to spread over the better half of the duvet. The sun leaked through the curtains and filling the room with a yellow light as Kurt stared up at the roof.

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_It was a week after the shooting, and Carol and Burt had gone to Columbia for a week end away from the kids. Finn had decided to stay in the spare room, allowing Puck to have the couch in Kurt's room. _

_Little did he know – well, actually, he probably guessed because they had been sneaking touches all day – that Puck would sneak in and pull Kurt close to his chest as soon as the lights winked off in the large house. _

_Kurt snuggled closer to the exposed skin, resting his cheek against the warm arm and kiss the soft skin between the neck and the shoulder._

"_Good night," Puck moaned into his slightly messed hair, encircling arms pulling the smaller boy even closer to his chest. _

_And that is how Kurt fell asleep, content and warm in his boyfriends hold. How ever nice that was, when he awoke, it was completely different._

_The hold had become so unbearably strong that Kurt pressed his hands to Puck's chest, pushing away and rolling onto his stomach, rubbing his shoulders and clicking the bed side light on._

_Puck's dark chocolaty eyes were open in terror and his hands were shaking. Actually, all of him was shaking. Kurt inched closer, placing a soft hand onto the cheek and brushing away a thick layer of sweat from the tan skin._

_A hand shot out and smoked Kurt in the mouth, splitting his lip. He cried out in surprised pain and fell back, tumbling off the bed. _

_Wither it was the mixture of his touch, or the physical abuse that finally awoke the troubled teen, Kurt would never know, because Puck's face bent over the bed, wide and startled. Staring at the boy like the world was about to end._

_And for them, it was. _

_Kurt jumped back to the bed, rubbing his thumb against his lip and inspecting the thick blood that swelled onto his finger print._

"_Shit. Kurt, I'm so," Puck voice broke and two thin tears leaked from his lashed, rolling down and mingling with the sweat, "so sorry."_

_Kurt folded his legs, and rubbed his wrist, Pucks gaze following the nervous action and filling with salty liquid as the realization touched home, "Hey, hey. It's okay, it was only a nightmare."_

_He inched closer, raising a hand to brush through the Mohawk, offering comfort, but the football player jumped away from the hand, dark eyes wide and chest heaving with shaking gasps. _

_Kurt let his hand drop back down to the red and white blanket, clenching a handful and tearing fuzz out. He was preoccupied with the lumps that fell from his hand that when Puck jumped back to the bed, crawling across the king sized mattress and reaching out to touch Kurt's lip that he jumped back. _

_And Kurt realized that he wasn't only startled, but he was scared. Scared that his boyfriends might hurt him again. His eyes widened and Puck dropped his hands to his sides, kneeling on the mattress but towering over the smaller boy. _

_Kurt tried to hide that fact that he wanted to be anywhere but right there, but Puck read it and slid back off the bed, gathered his shirt and socks and ran up the stairs. Tears formed in Kurt's eyes and when the front door finally slammed shut, the flooded over the dripped to the quilt. _

"_Hey Kurt? Where'd Puck go? I heard a lot of slams and bangs but I thought-" Kurt looked quickly away from his brother, trying to hide the tears and his lip behind his hands, but not soon enough. _

_Finn sat on the mattress and inched over to Kurt, throwing a hand over his shoulder and turning him into his own shoulder, wrapping the crying boy in a comforting hug._

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"Boy, you look horrible!" Kurt glared at his friend, slouched over to a vacant seat and folded his arms across his torso, spreading his legs out and letting his head flop over the back of the chair. "Sorry, but you know it's true. So, hey, we are all having a sleepover at my place tonight. You coming?"

"Sweet!" a boy's voice interjected, "When is it!"

Kurt weighed his options as his best friend bitched out the new guy for assuming 'we' was the Glee Club, rather that just the girls – and Kurt.

If he went, he would risk having a night mare in front of all the girls, wake up screaming like everyday of this shitty week.

But if he didn't, he would be home with all the guys, because it seemed that Carol had moved into the guest room and Finn had left a permanent mark in the corduroy. So, nightmares, or Noah? Ex-Boyfriend or Embarrassment.

Kurt slid his legs back, propelling himself into a sitting position and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the two to stop bickering. When Sam finally snorted and turned to start a conversation with an amused Quinn, Kurt smiled at his friend and rested his perfect head on her shoulder.

"Of coarse I'm coming, 'Cedes."

The girl smiled and pulled his friends hand into her lap, ignoring the stiffness that came when Puck walked into the room and sat in front of them.

Mr. Schuester clapped his hands and stood in front of the room, looking overly excited (like always). "So, you guys seemed to really like the idea of a prize-"

"We _are_ winning this time, Mercedes," Santana turned in her seat, glaring up at the girl and stating, "I want me some breadsticks!"

"Uh, no, not breadsticks," a chorus of groans met Mr. Schuesters explanation, and Kurt turned to grin at Mike, who, like him, opposed to the thought of eating at a place like that. Though their reasons were completely different. "The winner will get to select one of the songs for our performance?"

"For Sectionals? Because I already gave you my list of the appropriate songs that I think are quite-" Kurt shared an eye roll with his friend before watching Schue try (and fail) to interject in the girls' speech.

"No. And not for Regional's or National's. We have to do a fundraiser!" cue another round of groans, "oh come on guys! We want _awesome_ costumes, don't we Kurt?"

The group turned to look at the fashionista and he looked quickly away from the back of the head he was currently staring (longingly) at.

Kurt cleared his throat and nodded, receiving a look of confusion from the teacher and glare of suspicion from Finn, Rachel, Mercedes and Artie. The rest just shook their heads and looked at the teacher for more instruction.

Kurt groaned quietly and glanced at his friend before focusing fully on what was being explained. However, he missed it entirely and watched as Rachel jumped forward and plucked a piece of paper from the hat that Kurt seriously wanted to steal.

She unfolded the paper and bounced over to Mercedes, handing her the paper with her name on it. Ever since the Happy Days duet, the two of them seemed to be getting on pretty well. Well enough that Mercedes shared a quick, reluctant smile rather than the sneer she usually gave the brunet.

"Kurt, if you'd pick a partner?" Kurt nodded and slouched to the front of the room, all the while deep, shaking panic growing in his chest. He just hoped no one noticed. He reluctantly grabbed a paper out of the hat and drew it out. Eyes darting around the room and he casually flicking the paper open.

He sighed deeply and smiled before looking towards his partner, sitting beside just the person he didn't want to see, but he grinned and read the name out, "Sam." He looked slightly to the left, catching just the slightest look of annoyance and depression flash across Puck's face before fading back into the carelessness.

"Yeah! We finally get that duet! No way can you back out of it this time!" Kurt grinned and high-fived the boy before sitting elegantly beside him, crossing his legs and thinking of songs the two of them could perform.

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**Alright, and that is my chapter 2. I hope you enjoyed it. I would really like some input on wither or not I should make Sam bi. Thanks. And some love. Thanks! **


	3. Allowance

**Anomaly**

**Chapter Three : Allowance **

Puck x Kurt x all the other gleeks

Alright. Charles (my a-hole of a muse) ran away because I wouldn't feed him because I have 4 (FOUR!) unit exams coming up. This just in: the teachers do hate me! Anyways, he ran away and so this is my attempt to call him home. Mostly just a filler (I think that's the right word), so enjoy the filler-i-ness(?)!

I really, really, _really_ sorry this took so long to update. But I made it longer that usual, so don't kill me? Ill be quicker next time.

Thanks to everyone one who reviewed and/or followed and/or favorited. You guys make me smile even in Math! And that's saying something!

Please Review… Thanks 3

I don't own *any* of glee. ENJOY!

**There's always a little truth behind every "just kidding"; a little knowledge behind every "I don't know"; a little emotion behind every "I don't care"; a little pain behind every "it's okay".**

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The screen flicked from the coloured pixels to black, the silence that followed the movie was deafening. Kurt looked around the room, eyes falling to the skeptical look that Rachel and Quinn shared. He caught Tina's dumbfounded expression on felt his shoulder shake in a silent laugh.

"That was-!" Tina giggled, not finishing her sentence because of the deep chuckles.

"Horrible!"

The chuckles and boughs of laughter slowly died down, leaving the atmosphere in an awkward silence, short giggles seeping past Brittany's bright purple lips. A loud _thump_ sounded from the floor above them, and all noses' went skywards.

"What was that?" It may have been the ridiculously fake movie, but still, it was a horror…so it may or may have not resulted in the slightest quiver in Kurt's voice.

Mercedes cleared her throat, pursed her lips, and jumped a little when dust fell from the old roof and the upper story seemed to shake. "I don't know…mom and dad are out and Germy's at his friends…"

Kurt gulped and stood when Mercedes did, "You can't go up there! What if it's a break in?"

"Then I gotta stop 'em from getting my stuff!" Kurt winced as the rest of the girls stood, and joined at the back of the group, grabbing for Quinn's hand as they made their way up the stairs. "Oh, nah uh! They broke the vase!"

Mercedes rushed forward and grabbed the broken vase, holding pieces up as evidence and continuing on through the house. They past through the kitchen and crept down the hallway, stopping in front of an open door – the guest room – and rushing forward.

Rachel quickly ducked her head out the open window, coming back in and shrugging her shoulders, "Maybe you forgot to shut it?"

"Nah, it's never open…" Mercedes shook her head and turned to face the group. They had been through the house, and nothing seemed out of place, save for the vase, which could have easily been knocked over my wind.

But deep down Kurt knew that there was no way that _someone_ wasn't in here. He turned to head back into the hall, only to run see Santana facing the doorway, holding up a hand for silence. "Did you hear that?" she stag whispered.

Kurt shared a scared look with Quinn and inched forward into the hallway, following Santana and an oblivious Brittany through the hallway and in front of a door, "It came from in there…"

"That's Jeremy's room."

Santana nodded and placed her hand on the knob, casting a nervous look over her shoulder and throwing the door open…

Only to have it creek open to a very vacant room, surprisingly messy, but Kurt knew 'Cedes brother better than to think that a person breaking in would mess it up. No, this was defiantly Jeremy's mess.

"Huh. Guess not." Santana shrugged and made her way through the crowd back into the hallway and disappearing from view. Kurt laughed a shaking, scared laugh and walked out the door, linking arms with Rachel as he did so.

They paused to close the guest room's door, slamming it accidently when a loud, angry scream echoed from the kitchen.

Kurt gulped, but quickly followed as the girls raced to Santana. Really, he didn't want to go. He was scared enough as it was. And really, do you run towards the chainsaw wielding person about to kill your friend? No.

He pushed through the double swinging doors that lead to the Jones' kitchen. Only to see Santana holding a blue cup, red pajama shirt dripping and a man with green, black and brown painted onto his face holding up a water gun.

"Finn Hudson! I. Am. Going. To. Kill. YOU!" Santana screeched, dropping her cup and leaping forward, narrowly missing her target as he ran through the back door, down the stairs and into the back yard. "AG!" Santana raced after him, leaving the rest of the shocked in the kitchen, closely inspecting the puddle the gun had made on the ground.

Kurt made his way to the window over the sink, watching in the moonlight as Santana caught and tripped Finn, only to have the rest of the boys bounce out of the bushes and ambush her. Kurt grinned and accepted the foam sword that Mercedes pushed into his hands, obviously stolen from younger brother's room.

"Girls shall prevail!" Brittany yelled as they raced to the grass, each of them clutching various foam items: swords, axes, even a saw. Mercedes clutched a single Nerf gun close to her, shooting off the attackers away from Santana, so the girl could jump up and receive a weapon from her friend.

"Die! Hudson! _Die!_" Kurt watched amused, next to the house as his friends ran around the damp gas, girls wet and boys collecting a variety of bruises from harder parts of the foam and from the Nerf gun.

He was never one for running around a getting _sweaty_. Especially for such a rough house game like the one he watched. Kurt watched as the guys regrouped, took a knee and soaked the girls before braking apart again.

It was then that Kurt realized that there was one person missing. Looking around he spotted his wheelchair bound friend parked beside a hose and filling up an orange pistil. Smiling Kurt headed over, ignoring the guy who ran by and started to spray Tina. His mistake.

He was a couple feet from the pavement, the sword hanging loosely from his hand when he heard a twig snap behind him. Swallowing dryly, he spun to face a brown and green face, dripping with sweat and water that he had been accidently sprayed with.

Kurt tried to back track quickly, getting as far away from the gun that was currently pointed at his face, dropping his sword and tripping over an uneven part in the Jones' yard. His hands cart wheeled above him and the breath in his lungs whooshed out of his lungs, head snapping up off the ground before burying his dark hair in the fingers of the earth.

"O'ch!"

"Shit man, you okay?" Kurt paled deeply as his sensitive ears registered the voice over the ringing that seemed to fill the yard. Kurt sat up, blinking away the golden stars that filled his narrowed vision. Tucking his feet under him, he attempted to stand, quivering ever so slightly – just enough that a strong hand wrapped around his upper arm, holding him from falling over.

"Kurt! Are you alright? I saw that fall. It looked kind of harsh!" Artie called from the edge of the grass, waving at his friends to halt the game, and they all did, slowly gathering around the still swaying Kurt and the embarrassed Puck.

Kurt glanced around, very, _very_ conscious of the hand keeping him in place. Almost like Puck cared. But Kurt knew better than that. Oh, yes. Yes he did. "Let go of me!" He wrenched his arm away, staggering to where two taller guys, bother hidden under the camouflage, caught him. "I'm fine!"

"Dude, you're heads bleeding!"

"Stop calling me dude!" if anything bothered Kurt more than the boy standing, ashamed, angry and deflated across from him, it was the word _'dude'_. "And I'm fine!"

"You're shaking."

"Huh, go figure! I don't suppose it could be that I am _soaked_ with _water_ at, like, eleven thirty at night, _plus_ this is my new P.J.'s, and they have a grass stain now. _Grass Stain_!"

Mercedes grinned and shouldered her gun, bumping it close to her ears and glaring around the group, "Kurt's right you guys. We should get in, before the neighbors complain."

They all looked towards the Jones' _creepily_ known neighbors and uniformly shuddered when they seen the pale silhouette of a man standing in the attic window.

"Night guys!" The boys waved good bye, piling into the sliding doors of the white van that Artie must have driven. Only one lingered back, hovering at Kurt's shoulder.

"Kurt-I-I am really-" Kurt turned and stomped back into the house, leaving Puck to stare after him longingly, "sorry." He whispered, hanging his head and walking back to the van, dragging his gun a bit behind him.

Mercedes, Quinn and Tina shared a worried look before rushing back into the warmth to change.

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He didn't remember much, just his head hitting the pillow and the Nerf gun lying on the floor next to his sleeping bag. He thought of moving it, at least out of his line of sight, but his arms were so heavily, and he was so warm in his cocoon of layered blankets. His eyes fluttered shut before he was able to comprehend anything else and he was asleep in the aisle of the local grocery.

"Kurt! Kurt! Wake up!" rough hands fell to shake his shoulders and bring him back to consciousness.

Well, almost consciousness, "No! Get off me! Get off me!" He bolted upright, swinging his arm and narrowly missing fitting a furious Santana in the nose.

"Kurt! It's me! It's 'Cedes!"

"'Cedes?" he asked, searching through the dark of the room for him friend, voice shaking, hands shaking, head spinning, and heart thumping painfully against his rip cage.

Brittany's voice sounded from the far corner of the room, dreamy and otherworld as always, "Is he possessed?"

Kurt's teeth chattered together, though he was still under the thick layers of blankets. A thin layer of sweat was gathered on his brow, and worst of all, he couldn't even remember what the dream was. He always remembered, it was part of what kept him sane and able to vanish the scenario.

But he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember if Noah had died, bleeding out in his arms, or if Rachel had broken out into kick-ass ninja skills and owned Willis' ass; or even if her had found the dreaded ball cap. There was no way that he could prove that the dream was just that: a dream. Not when he couldn't remember.

Quinn crawled onto the thin pull-out mattress and wrapped her arms tightly around his shivering torso and cradling his head on her thin shoulders. Mercedes and Tina both grabbed a hand and Brittany reached forwards to massage his freezing feet.

"Boy, why didn't you tell us you were having the night terrors?"

"What? I-I'm-m n-not having n-nightm-mares," he shivered, moving to be tucked under Quinn arm and resting his pale cheek deeper against her warm shoulder.

"You were yelling Kurt," Tina tighten the grip on his hand and brought it to her lips, "a lot. It took us a whole ten minutes to wake you."

Brittany stopped her rubbing and scooted over to Santana, her eyes filled with fear and whispered, "Guns, and Puck, and death, and blood."

Kurt screwed his eyes shut and recalled the blood. There was a lot of it. Too much to actually _be_ in that dismembered human body. "I n-need to go home," he stuttered, the shivering was gone, but he couldn't stop the shaking.

Quinn nodded and helped Kurt to stand, tittering slightly when his knees failed to work. Mercedes, Tina and Brittany watched, scared after the horrible screams that had awoken them. Mumbling an apology, they made their way up the stairs, Kurt clutching tightly to Quinn's purple silk pajamas as to keep from passing out.

Surprisingly enough, it was Santana that offered to drive him home, shoving the pair into the back of her black Ford Focus and slowly pulling out of the drive. Quinn ran her hands soothingly over Kurt's back as they drove.

It was sort of comforting; but then; less than soothing, actually, it made him a bit nauseous. . They turned a corner and Kurt felt a strange pull at his stomach. "Stop the car!" He clutched at the metal of the handle and threw open the door, making it only to the edge of the road before doubling over onto the dirty grass and throwing up.

If his new pajamas hadn't already been stained and ripped, the gravel that dug into the soft material and the tears that dropped onto the deep red buttons would have made him leak a few tears; as it turned out, it was the least of his worries.

Quinn rubbed his shoulders and he leaned back over the curb, coughing weakly and tears pouring down his cheeks. Gasping, he struggled to stand back up. Oh, how he hated that. The gross, acidic taste in the back of his throat, the burning as it rushed over his tongue and the bitter after taste that tainted to his teeth and cheeks.

A darker hand placed a bottle in front of his face and he took a swig, swishing it around and spitting it angrily to the ground. Tonight was horrible. First the ruining of his pajamas, then the dream, the embarrassment when his friends finally learnt about his nightmares, and of _course_ it would be the worst of them he had in since the shooting. Probably the Nerf gun.

He crawled back into the car, covering his eyes with clammy hands and sighing gratefully when Quinn squeezed his shoulders.

Santana cleared her throat and glanced in the rearview at her friends, Kurt was sure that she was going to yell at him to hurl in her car, but instead; "My uncle was a soldier in the war, and he had post traumatic stress disorder, woke up choking my aunt one time-"

"I'm not PTSD, Santana," he snorted, shivering in the cold of the night and rubbing his hands over his legs, trying to warm them up a bit.

Her eyes met his through the rear-view mirror, and he felt like maybe, _maybe_, maybe(!) he might be. Maybe. They pulled into his drive, and he felt a bit stressed when he realized that it was almost six – the sun was peeking out and sending red and orange and pink over the row of houses.

"Did you want me to stay? Kurt?" Kurt looked through the window, feeling tears burn in the back of his eyes and he nodded ever so slightly. If she was offering, he was accepting. She slid from the car and waved to Santana, who promised to drop her stuff up when she got more sleep.

Quinn tucked her arm around Kurt and led him up the stairs, waiting patiently as Kurt pulled out his keys and unlocked the door before staggering down the stairs.

Kurt made his way over to the bed, crawling over the enormous king mattress and pressing his face to the feather pillow, allowing his tears to mingle with the soft cotton. Quinn glanced around the room, sure that she could make out five lumps of figures in the sitting area of the adjoined bed room.

She tiptoed over the blankets and sleeping bags, clicking off the television that was paused on Call of Duty and moving a bowl of popcorn away from a twitching teen's foot. Sighing she glanced around the room, eyes unsteady as she watched a peacefully Puckerman sleeping with an arm thrown over his eyes.

How was it fair that he was the one shot, the one that broke up with his boyfriend for, as far as she was concerned, a miniature reason and still be the one allowed to sleep through the night.

She flipped back the covers and slid into the bed, carefully slipping behind Kurt and wrapping her arms around the thin boy, resting her warm cheek to his neck and biting the inside of her cheek when she felt the fragile body shake with silent sobs.


	4. Mood Swing

**Anomaly**

**Chapter Four: Mood Swing**

Puck x Kurt x all the other gleeks

Okay! I don't know how soon ill have another update because I have to work FIVE days in a row. Which isn't a lot, I know. But being in high school, I am so not used to giving up PD days to work.

I want you to know how hard it was to find the colour of Sams eyes. It was fricken ridiculous! BTW apparently its green. Thankyou random forum sight!

Thanks to everyone one who reviewed and/or followed and/or favorited. I love it, keep up the great work :P

Please Review… Thanks 3

So don't have male genitalia, so, no I'm not Ryan Murphy. haha

**There's always a little truth behind every "just kidding"; a little knowledge behind every "I don't know"; a little emotion behind every "I don't care"; a little pain behind every "it's okay".**

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When Kurt rolled over late Saturday morning, he was alone in bed and the far side was cold, meaning his friend had lone left him alone. Crawling off his bed, he started towards the bathroom door, pausing only when he heard a snore from Finn's bed.

Glancing over, he did not find his brother, however, but a shorter, Mohawk boy, arm thrown over his eyes and blanket sliding to the ground. Taking a couple deep breaths, he shivered in the cold basement air, looking for a source.

An open window, on a cold November day, meant for _very_ fridged air to circulate through the white basement, he could only wonder why he didn't wake up shivering.

Kurt moved very slowly, glancing around the room for any evidence of the other boys watching him, but they were all asleep. He tiptoed over to the other bed, staring at it about a foot away before jumping forward and swiping the blanket off the floor.

Puck twitched and Kurt could see the Goosebumps rising on his arms. Kurt felt pin pricks pierce into his eyes, warm liquid welling up and glassing over his pupils. He folded the blanket and placed it over the now shivering boy. Tensing when the boy rolled and clutched at the corner, brushing the fragile skin of Kurt's hand and sending a shiver up his back.

His brow quivered and the tears threatened to escape his thick lashes, so he swirled and trotted to the bathroom, the door clicking soundly shut and the salt finally seeping down his fragile pours.

He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing a wave of tears to trickle through his lashes and wiping a hand under his nose drying the skin. Kurt inspected himself in the full-length mirror, eyes traveling from his excruciatingly messy hair to his toes which seemed to have an assortment of colours of layers of dirt.

Not to mention the various rips and cuts and stains in his new jammies. All in all, he looked _terrible_. His delicate skin was blotched pink with a blush, dark, tired eyes rimmed with red, and a throbbing headache….this called for a shower.

He stripped out of his exquisite threads, loosing a few more tears as he placed them into the small garbage. Never had any of his cloths been beyond fixable; and he was glad for it.

He started the water, steeped into the steam and sputtered into the rush of water. Taking the deep blue scrub brush, he was sure to get every inch of his body, watching the dirt swirl around the drain and wash away.

Kurt lathered his hair with the thick mint and rosebud shampoo, the one he used when he was depressed. It was the same as his mothers. The stronger smell seemed in to mix around the steam, pawing at his skin and smothering him in the familiar motherly smell.

Leaning into the spray of water, he lost more and more tears as they rushed quickly from his eyes. Seeing Noah – Puck, seeing _Puck_ like that, cold, sad, should he think it? Pathetic. It depressed him. All he wanted to do was rush over to the bed and cradle his head and tell him everything would be alright. But Kurt couldn't because he was no longer his Noah, no, he was Puck.

Noah-makes-you-fall-in-love-with-him-then-breaks-your-heart-Puckerman. Grinding his teeth with anger and regret, he slammed off the water, wincing when it splurged to the side and blasted him with cold water.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped the fluffy, pale blue towel around his waist. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he grabbed the bottle of moisturizer from the counter and rubbed it gently over his face, banishing all thoughts of the heart-breaker and using and second towel to dry his hair with.

Usually, Kurt loved to look _fantastic_, but today, he was kind of liking the bed head hair, sticking up in all sorts of angles. Of course, there was no way his hair would stay that way…but he wouldn't be putting anything in it, that's for sure. Go for the wild look.

Smiling, he turned to gather his clothes – only to realize that he had thrown them out. And no way in _hell_ would he be getting them out of the trash. Tightening the towel around his waist, and taking off the wrap on his hair, he flung open the door, hoping that the boys would be asleep still. He hadn't been in there that long – had he?

Running from the bathroom door to his bed side, Kurt lunged for the bottom drawer of his dresser, grabbing a random pair of pants (they all were great, so it didn't really matter) and rummaging for a grey shirt, he grabbed the first one he seen, making a mental note to tidey up his drawers.

Grinning like a maniac for achieving his goal (getting the clothes without being seen half-naked by anyone) he stood, and froze.

Across the room, on the much messier half, the side with cowboy sheets and horse pillows sat Puck, feet on the floor and leaning over his knees, staring wide eyed at Kurt. Kurt gulped and the startled, scared look turned into a much goofier one. Sideways smile and twinkle in the warm chocolate eyes.

"I-uh-I was – uh," Kurt held up his armful of clothing, offering as an explanation. The cold air licked at his exposed chest, and he could feel himself go all shades of red. The worst part was that the king-sized bed was just higher than his waist. So, being the gross pervert he was, Puck probably thought he was completely nude.

They hadn't even gotten that far in their relationship! Kurt turned and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and wincing when a soft chuckle snuck its way into the room. _Damn it!_ _Damn _it!

Kurt whipped the towel off, and pulled on his clothes, glaring into the mirror. His face was flushed, with reason, and his eyes sparked with embarrassment and anger. Not that he was angry, per say, but there was a _spunkier_ edge to them.

Cold water washed over his face as he splashed the moisturizer off. Dabbing it on yet _another_ towel, he grinned into the mirror. Luck was on his side, he had managed to grab the tightest, blackest pair of jeans he owned, they were snug to his ass and the grey shirt – a short sleeved v-neck, clung to the dancer abs that a few practice of football had improved.

He looked hell-a-hot.

"Hey! Hummel!" A playful voice pounded on the bathroom door, shaking Kurt back to the present, "I gotta to piss like a race horse!"

Kurt smirked and was tempted to start the water, just to drive the teen up the wall, "I don't know, Evans, I'm kind of busy in here…"

Sam rattled the door knob and threw himself the door, shaking it away from the frame and causing Kurt to rush forward and throw it open, afraid that he might actually brake it.

Sam smiled and grabbed Kurt's wrist, pulling him out the door and rushing in, snapping the door shut behind himself. Kurt grinned and head to the stairs, silently thanking Sam; he always seemed to brighten the mood.

"Good morning Dad," he called from the kitchen, seeing his father sitting in his usual place at the kitchen table, hiding behind the newspaper.

Burt folded up the paper and placed his hands over them, motioning Kurt to join him. Kurt groaned and sat nervously gulped.

"When I woke up this morning, there was a young blond in my kitchen, playing with _my_ coffee maker-"

Kurt sighed and mentally slapped himself for not warning Quinn; no one touches the coffee machine. "Sorry, dad, she was…keeping me company…"

"Yes, I know, she told me," _Oh no, _Kurt thought, racking his brain for anything that might have happened that Quinn would have spilled the beans on, she was pretty trustful, so he came up short, "something about nightmares…"

_Oh no she didn't!_ What was she _thinking_? Telling his father about that. Silly girl, now he would be watched all night. His father was never going to get a fitful rest. "There only once and a while," he lied easily, hoping his father would fall for it.

"Sure, sure. But there bad enough that you can't sleep at Mercedes?"

"I just wanted my own bed. I swear that floor is _so_ uncomfortable." Perhaps it was the fact that Kurt stayed over at his best friends' house _at least _once a week that made Burt give his son a skeptical look.

"Maybe you should see a shrink?" he pondered, giving Kurt a piercing gaze.

The younger Hummel smacked his hands onto the wooden table, pushing the chair back and standing in a fluid motion, "I do _not_ need a counselor! I'm not that messed up! Everyone blows this out of proportion! There just little nightmares! They don't _mean_ anything. I will not go to a _shrink_!"

He spun to go somewhere, anywhere really, and faced many surprised look. From Finn's pained look, like he knew about the nightmares but never said anything, to Sam's smile, like he was surprised that Kurt ever raised his voice. The worst was Puck's, that flashed from embarrassment to sorrow to something unreadable.

Storming out of the room, through the living room and out the front door, he plopped onto the front stairs, kicking a small stone with his bare feet. Not only did every single one of his friends know about his pathetic dreams, but he had practically said that only really fucked up people went to shrinks, and Puck was standing there, listening, and _he_ was going to a shrink.

"Agg!" Kurt buried his head in his hands, running them through the now-dried silky smooth strands and knocking his elbows onto his knees.

The door clicked open and he was aware of someone standing behind him, expecting Finn, Burt or maybe even a hurt Puck, he was pleasantly surprised to see Sam sit down next to him on the stairs.

"Hey Kurt," he said, leaning back on the stairs and looking up at the clear blue sky. Kurt mentally prepared himself for a flood of questions, maybe even a little mocking. He was happily surprised, again. "Did you want to work on our duet today?"

Lifting his head from his hands, he met Sam's green, sparkling eyes. He finds himself smiling, though he's not a _hundred_ percent sure why, "Uh…I'd love too?" Kurt winces when he poses it as a question, but thankfully it didn't come out needy or something.

"Great! I'll go get changed!" Sam jumps up and Kurt realizes that he was sitting in the cool air in nothing but basketball shorts and a muscle shirt. Standing, he brushed any dirt that may have been on the step before following the enthusiastic partner inside.

Kurt took a seat in the living room on their beat-up old couch and plopped his stocking feet onto the coffee table, wondering what shoes to wear. He watched with weary eyes as Puck walked in the room, around the table and sat on the edge of the chair parallel to Kurt.

"Uh. I was just wondering if you, uh, wanted to hang out a bit today?"

What. Just _what_? Who hangs out with their freshly insulted exboyfriend? "Actually, Sam and I are working on our duet." He stood quickly and walked away, trying not to look back at the shut down boy.

"Ready to go!" Sam called, bounding up the stairs with a backpack strapped to his, well, back.

Nodding, Kurt headed into the kitchen and grabbed his black authentic leather wallet before shoving it into his back pocket. His father watched him with a slight frown on his face. "Sam and I are going to work on a Glee project. I'll try to be back by supper."

"Don't worry about it," Burt replied, icily drawing his paper again, "You boys have fun."

"Yeah. We will," Kurt whispered, a little put out by his fathers' cold attitude.

Sam was waiting at the door, talking to Mike and Artie, who were also paired up for Glee. Kurt slid his black socks into a pair of warn Puma's. Smiling slightly when Artie did a double take and looked a little troubled by the less than perfect shoes. But Kurt was _wild_ today, and that meant he wanted his comfortable shoes.

"See you later!" Sam called as he pulled Kurt out the door, "Where you wana go?"

"Uh…" apparently, there was an unspoken agreement that the boys were taking his navigator to _somewhere_.

Afore Kurt could go any further with his train of thought, Sam clapped his hands together and plugged his iPod into the ashtray, "Turn left at this intersection!" Kurt quickly switched lanes and proceeded to take a left, following each of the directions with a renewed curiosity.

Soon the small town of Lima had disappeared behind them and Kurt became increasingly aware that he hadn't had breakfast; in fact he hadn't even had coffee, the cup was still sitting on the table. "Sam? Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he smiled and flicked through the playlist, thumbing for a usable song, "any ideas?"

Kurt wrinkled his nose up as a loud, heavy bass lit through the speakers, "Not this." Sam continued to go through his iPod, and the town continued to disappear behind them.

"We are not singing Abba, why do you even have that song?"

Sam chuckled and blushed a bit, "Mom uses my iTunes… take this turn."

"Wait! This is the song! It's perfect!"

"Well, that was good timing," Sam chuckled as Kurt threw the Navigator into park.


	5. Fun for Four

**Anomaly**

**Chapter Five: Fun for Four**

Kurt x Sam x Finn x Quinn

Yeah, so I hit a wall. Why is it that my laptop goes slower when not hooked to the internet. We have dialup currently, too.

I LOVE BLAINE! Which is surprising because I was _so_ ready to hate him. Because he had weird curly hair in all my pictures I looked up. But HOT DAMN hes gorgeous. But in all seriosness I think I like him more than puckurt because he _is_ gay! Woot woot. So its like defiantly going to happen. So much hotter than Jesse, for sure. Sorry St. James

Two things though:

We know that New Directions goes to Nationals, right? Right. So the Cardinals (?) are going to loose sectionals. And those old people (snicker), but maybe Blaine'll come to ND? Haha…or not.

Secondly: In duets did sam not say something along the lines of "I went to an all boys academy" (ish) and quinn was like "you are gay?" _anyways_ I was thinking: Blaine broke up with Sam and Sam switched schools! Someone write it! Write it NOW! Yeah, I am so cleaver!

Please Review again and again and again… Thanks! 3

So don't have male genitalia, so, no I'm not Ryan Murphy. haha

**Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass…it's about learning to dance in the rain.**

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"No, Sam, it's defiantly going to rain!" Kurt objected, reaching into the bag of potato chips that the other had somehow conjured up.

Sam pointed upwards, talking around a mouthful of chips, "See that cloud? It looks like a bunny." Following the finger, Kurt found, not a bunny rabbit, but rather yet _another_ darkening cloud.

They had looped back after they found their song and grabbed a bunch of food; Kurt a bag of carrots, celery, and grapes; Sam a bag of gummy worms, ten dollars worth of five cent candies, a bag of Zesty Dorito's, a box of six citrus Amps, _and_ pure sugar cookies.

The wrappers were thrown haphazardly across the hood of the Navigator, where the boys were currently relaxed, head on the wind shield, shoes thrown to the grass below, hands shaking with the beginnings of a sugar high.

"Toe-ta-lee is raining," Kurt sang, a gummy worm hanging from the side of his mouth, tickling from his chapped lips to his round chin, a heavy water drop landed on the tip of his nose.

Neither boy, however, made a move to get off the hood, rather letting the slow rain pitter quietly against the metal and their exposed skin. The song that had been rumbling from the speakers changed to a quieter, acoustic remake.

Kurt watched, wide eyed as the droplets quickly turned into a spiraling whirl-wind of spray. "Oh em gee!" he squealed, sliding off the down soaked metal and onto the mushy grass. He swooped to grab his Puma's and keys, struggling to get a good hold of the slippery plastic that was to allow them into the vehicle.

"Dude! Unlock the door! I'm getting soaked out here!" Kurt looked through the windows – which was quite a feat concidering the amount of rain that tickled down the glass - at the teen, and, true to his word, his bleach died hair was suctioned to his head, rain poured down his strong cheek bones and dripped off his overly large lips.

He smiled and the clicked to door open, leaning over to manually unlock the passenger door, sliding across the beige leather, smoothly inserting the key and turning it towards the dash. It purred to life before sputtering out again.

Sam sighed and banged his head against the headrest, droplets of rain splattering around the interior. Kurt glanced at him before trying again. Purr, but die. Pulling the keys from the ignition, he threw them at his partner before grabbing a flashlight and risking the storm.

Lightning lit up the sky and thunder rumbled far off from their field as Kurt opened the hood they had been sitting on, the garbage gathering between the metal and the glass. His hands shook as he inspected the engine, though he was not sure if it was from the candy or the cold.

After a few minutes of fruitless efforts, the vehicle would still not start, and Kurt, drenched through his layers, so much so that he was almost a puddle himself, gave in. He went around the vehicle and crawled into the back, searching for the plastic yellow box for emergencies.

"Don't look!" he commanded as he pulled out a pair of dark washed jeans and a deep purple sweater. Crouching where the back seat would have been – had they not taken it out to fix his shopping bags – he quickly changed from the soaked clothing into something dryer.

Hanging the dripping clothes from the roof, Kurt crawled over the seats, sliding back into the drivers chair and searching his bag for his phone.

"Couldn't fix it?" Sam inquired, handing him the phone from the floor and smiling lopsidedly. Kurt recalled a few weeks ago when Mrs. Evens came in with her Ford Focus and asked him to look into it; Sam had scoffed at him, but full out bellowed when the car _did_ start.

Kurt dialed the number and pressed the phone to his ear, "Oh shut up." After a few rings the other line was finally picked clumsily up. "Dad?"

"Nope, it's Finn, what do you want?"

"Is dad there Finn?" Kurt growled, rolling his eyes at his brother's politeness, or lack there of.

It took a minute for Finn to answer, and Kurt had to struggle to hear over the roar of thunder, but from what he understood, Burt and Carol had gone out. "Well then, you have to come pick us up."

"But it's raining!"

"Finn Hudson! I _know_ its raining! Come get us!" Kurt proceeded to give Finn the directions, making sure that the idiot-slash-brother was writing it down and Sam popped the lid off of an Amp.

"Okay, be there in a bit!"

Kurt snapped to phone shut, leaning forward to throw it onto the dash and grab a handful of gummies. "I hate the rain," he admitted, biting the head off of a worm. He watched with murderous eyes as the rain pounded against the front, lighting streaked to the ground and thunder roared above them.

Sam had no reply, but instead ate the last cookie, sucking on the meringue until in melted in his mouth. A bubble of laughter escaped his lips when Kurt jumped in his seat after a curiously loud bash.

"Shut up!" Kurt giggled, rubbing his leg where the steering wheel had abused him. He pouted when Sam couldn't stop laughing and the car windows were soon fogged up from the release of hot air from each of the boys.

Kurt threw his head back in laughter, wiping his eyes with the back of a finger and reaching over to punch Sam in the shoulder.

However, when Sam's hand snaked up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him over the middle and crashing their lips together, the laughter died.

Their tongues met in a furry of dominance, and Sam's hands explored the muscles of Kurt's back, digging his fingers into his hips in attempt to pull them closer together.

"No, no," Kurt breathed, breaking away panting slightly, "stop, Sam, stop." Sam did as he asked but looked up at him curiously.

Had he been totally honest, Kurt had wanted Sam to be gay from the very start, but now that they were kissing, he was almost afraid. And ashamed. Sam was dating Quinn, wasn't he? And Quinn had become a good friend, so what was he doing throwing himself at her man?

Oh, but more importantly, he couldn't get Puck's face out of his head. "Sorry," he whispered and sank back into his own chair, curling his knees to his chest and dangled his feet just below the steering wheel.

"S'okay Kurt. I should be the one apologizing."

"You- you're-?" he tried to ask, not looking at the other boy, but at the swirl of steam against the glass.

Sam shrugged and took another swig of his caffeinated drink, "Well, I _did_ go to a boy's private school. You have to be bi to survive a year there."

Chortling, Kurt nodded, as if he understood. Maybe, sort of, not really. It wasn't a surprised that he would hide something like that; after all, Sam had seen all the ridicule that was Kurt's daily dose of humility. And… boys will be boys.

When he had started high school, he was the only out and proud person. Hell, he was about ready to accept that he was the only person in _Lima_ that was remotely gay. But know there sat Sam, blonde and beautiful and bisexual. And, another example; Puck, buff and bronze and, similarly, bisexual.

"Look, I know I just screwed up _everything_. Like our friendship, and probably our duet, and the competition," Kurt lip curled up a bit, but he determinedly looked out the front window, hanging onto the others words. "but I just thought, because of Puck-"

Kurt snapped his head to the side, eyes pulling together in a tight knitted frown, "Hold up, you kiss-_kissed_ me because, _because_ of _Puck_?"

"Well, it sounds so much worse when you put it like that…"

He scoffed and tried to from a sentence, staring at the other with absurdity. If Kurt believed in aliens, he would be sure that one took over his friend in the thunder storm. It took a minute or two before he got control of his tongue, "Are you kidding me? Who's idea was this? Oh, I bet it was Quinn's! That, that _bitch_! Here I was feeling bad that I was kissing her boy-friend but in reality-!"

"Shut up," Sam placed a hand over Kurt's mouth, frowning slightly, and only removed it when Kurt pretended to bite at it, and he was sure the boy wasn't going to start into another fit. "We were worried, you seemed so out of it lately and we all agreed that it would be…best…if one of us could get closer to you."

Of course! His naive little friends were worried about him because he recently (like a month ago) broke up with someone who was very dear to him. Completely understandable, right? In a way it was almost endearing…but…

"You felt it was necessary to _kiss_ me?" Kurt smirked, trying not to break into a fit of laughter, but as Sam nodded his head sheepishly, he found himself clutching at the wheel with white knuckles, and tears slipping down his cheeks. His chest rattled with heavy laughter and soon Sam's slightly worried laugh echoed his.

The laughter slowly died down, and Kurt hiccupped, rubbing his chest when it hurt to take a breath, was it possible to pull a muscle laughing? If so, he just did. He figured he should be pretty pissed, right? His friend, his duet partner just pulled a quick one on him. But Kurt didn't really care. It was nice just to know that people were worried about him. It was like when you didn't want a hug, but you get a hug anyways? And it turns out that that was what you needed anyways. Does that make sense?

Sam looked over the seat, any trace of laughter gone and replaced with worry, "But really Kurt, are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, Sam, I am." And it was true. Mostly. Sure it hurt a bit to be in the same room as Puck because he was _defiantly_ not over the boy, but he was working around it… he just wouldn't be in a situation that involved being in the same room. Except for Glee, anyways.

The fog off the windows slowly started to retreat as the boys sat in an awkward silence. Kurt desperately wanted to break it, but every subject that popped into his head was pushed aside with some reason it wouldn't be appropriate.

Sam opened his mouth, as if to say something, and Kurt got hopeful, but the mouth clicked shut and joined the sound of the rain.

"So... Did you want to dance or play your guitar, because I'm honestly not that great of a dancer," Kurt broke off, wincing a bit when it sounded to loud against the thunder.

Sam's face relaxed, and the atmosphere changed surprisingly quickly, "Well…"

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"Stop! Stop!" Kurt threw his head back and laughed into the rumble of thunder above them, pretending to shield his eyes from Sam's seated dance. They had been practice their number for the better part of an hour.

They were both happily surprised when it wasn't at all uncomfortable or embarrassing for either of them. Kurt had his bare feet (thankfully, they didn't stink) on the middle armrest, his back to the door and his brown, ruffled hair to the window. Sam was sitting the same, save for his feet, which were much too big to fit onto the rest.

"You're a retard."

"You're so gay!"

Kurt toyed with a handful of worms, debating. In the end it was too much fun to pass up, and it, hopefully, wouldn't take that long to clean, so he launched the worms through the vehicle and hit the other in the face. Sam caught one in his mouth and grinned evilly before reaching towards the floor.

He was saved, however, from the fate of a food fight in his precious baby when his door swung open, and he tumbled backwards, flailing his arms and grabbing onto the seatbelt to keep from face planting into the rain.

The upside down view was not something to be desired, when you came face to face with someone's rain-shielded, red and white crotch. "Try the other door, sweetheart," he giggled, completely out of breath. Quinn took a step back, smiling triumphantly, but offered no help when Kurt tried to pull himself upwards. "Thanks," he spat when he was finally sitting back in the leather.

His vision blurred and his brain felt five times enlarged for a moment, but when he came back from his head rush, Sam was out of the vehicle, patiently kissing Quinn in the rain.

Kurt scrunched up his delicate nose, grabbed the keys, his phone and slid his shoes on before hopping out of the vehicle. "Get a room!" he called as he crossed the small clearing and approached Finn's truck.

The rain pattered into his skin and damped his dry clothes, so when a wave of cold water flooded his back side, he spun to face a grinning Quinn. The puddle between them still shook with recent movements.

"Fabray! You're going to pay!" He lunched himself over the puddle, searching his fingers out to grab at her, not sure what he was going to do quite yet, but he could figure that out later.

Quinn hid behind her boyfriend, laughing and glaring all at the same time. Sam shuffled around before lunging forward and grabbing one of Kurt's arms. Quinn grabbed the other. Together they dragged him backward, heels digging into the slippery grass but not actually preventing anything.

Looking over his shoulder, he realized where they were dragging him: the biggest puddle he had ever seen, it would easily drown him.

"Finn! Finn help!" he yelled, hoping his brother would hear over the rain, the thunder and whatever music was playing in the truck.

"NO! I don't want to get wet!"

"Please! I'm your little brother!" Kurt glanced over his shoulder and seen the puddle fast approaching. Luckily, Sam's arm was wrenched off his own as he was pulled into a playful head lock but none other than Big Brother.

Quinn quickly let go and backed up, "Kurt," she pleaded when he spun to face her, wet bangs sticking to his forehead and water dripping down his ankles, "we wouldn't have actually-"

Kurt raced forward and Quinn spun to run, but she forgot he had been on the football team. He actually went to the practices, where he learnt how to take a tackle, but also how to give one.

They both tumbled towards the soft grass. Similarly having the effect of dropping a huge boulder from a cliff into a lake; so, yeah, he got a little bit wet. Quinn struggled to her feet, sliding against the slippery floor of the puddle.

When they arrived home twenty minutes later – the rain had died down and it was much easier to drive – soaked to the bone and shivering, and people enquired to what had happened. Kurt, Sam and Quinn folded over, laughing manic-like and Finn shrugged, offered a reply (something about crazy people, football and sugar highs) the trio fell to the floor, literally laughing their asses off.


	6. By the Moonlight

**Anomaly**

**Chapter Six: By the Moonlight.**

Kurt x Finn x Sam x Puck x Noah

You've had to wait a long long time, and for that I am sorry! But I will get this posted before the new episode on Tuesday, because I just have this feeling that their will be a thousand more of Blaine/Kurts if Darrens in it, which he sure as hell better be. Anyone started to get annoyed that that's all they can find? If so F you. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Reviews make me so so happy and make me think that my terrible spelling was as noticeable, so make me happy, or I'll be sad!

If I owned Glee...Blaine would defiantly have been in _wayyy_ earlier, dur!

**Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass…it's about learning to dance in the rain.**

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Kurt glanced at his cards, "Go, Fish," he smirked and watched with confident eyes as Sam grunted and picked a card off the pile. "Finn, Ace of Spades."

The card was passed with silence and Kurt grinned with triumph as he laid down his last pair, the others growled and threw there cards to the table, accusing him of cheating. "Puh-lease! I am the king! Bow down at my feet!" was the only reply they got.

"So, when are we watching that movie?"

Sam had bought Zombieland and brought it over; he was staying the night because his parents were out of town, and apparently, he wasn't to be trusted at home, alone.

"Now?"

The boys gathered their drinks and headed into the living room, each sitting on their own chair, or in Finn's case, couch. Sam pushed the disc in and it immediately flicked to the set-up screen.

"Wait!" Finn cried, holding his hands up and jumping, comically, off the couch. "junk food!"

"Did you get chips?" Sam asked, turning to crack his back. The answer was in Finn's wince and the boys scowled; you can't have a movie marathon without chips.

Kurt stood from his chair, stretching his hands to the roof, "It's fine, I'll go grab some from the store, _if_ you make my popcorn." He wouldn't put any of that calorie filled potatoes in his body, _no sir!_ Air popped popcorn, hold the butter and the salt, was as un-healthy as he would get.

"BBQ!" Finn requested, digging for change in his pocket.

Sam followed suit, handing over a ten and winking, "Ketchup, and Sour Cream. Puckerman, want anything?"

"Nah, dude, I'll eat yours," he called, spinning in the Lazy boy.

"Alrighty, be back in a few," Kurt called, gathering his keys from the pegs and slipping into his dried Puma's, slipping the satchel over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

"Hey Kurt! Kurt! I need to talk to you!"

He groaned; he had almost made it to his Navigator. He turned to face Puck, leaning against the door with the keys dangling out, half unlocked. The Mohawked boy was grinning and a bit out of breath, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering.

To be perfectly honest, Kurt was scared. He had expected mad and angry and hurt, but not this. Not...happy? Excited? He ground his teeth together, trying not to catch the contagious smile. Arching an eyebrow and tapping his toes, he waited for the other to speak.

"I was wondering, if you-" the pearly white teeth faded behind suddenly nervous lips and Kurt fought not to trace the tongue that darted out to moisten the rims. The happy, confident Puck was quickly replaced with a nervous, antsy Puck. "-? ."

Kurt's bugged out when the boy finished the speech. Squinting his eyes, he attempted to repeat the words, slower, in his head. But he just couldn't figure out what that all meant. Puck crossed he arms and nervously started bouncing on his toes, chewing at his lip and staring, unblinking at the smaller boy.

"Uh.." Kurt cleared his throat, trying to figure out just what to say, "What?"

The nervousness cracked down and was replaced with embarrassment, "Ah, shit! Sorry I even asked!" the words were cruel and Kurt flinched back a bit. But he wasn't listening to the words; he was watching Noah's eyes. They flashed from glistering orbs of green to dry, hurt and abused.

Puck turned and started to trudge back to the house, shoulders hunched and head hanging. The swish of the kitchen curtains as someone left their hiding spot did not go unnoticed. Kurt glared at the window, but lunged forward all the same.

"Wait!" he grabbed the elbow and stopped the retreatment, "I didn't hear you...at all really..."

Puck pivoted on his feet, spinning to face him again, his brows frowned and he cocked his head to the side, "You didn't understand me?" As each word slipped past his lips, Kurt shook his head and the smile grew and grew until the teeth were back.

"Would you mind repeating yourself?"

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and caught his almost-sort of- not really- brothers eyes as the curtain swished closed. Puck nodded his head, smile fading away with nervousness again, but he pronounced each syllable like his it was his life line. "Tomorrow night, my mother and my sister and I were wondering if you wanted to come for Spaghetti...I know how much you like mom's pasta..."

It was Kurt's turn to cock his head, and he did with pleasure, a worrisome frown, "Dinner? With you and Sara and your mother?" Puck nodded and tucked his lips in, creating a white rim, "Sure, why not?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay."

"Okay... I should go get those chips..."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Bye then."

"See you in a bit!"

"Noah, are you going to stand out here all night?"

"What? Oh, no. I'll go inside now, then."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye Kurt."

Kurt shook his head, a smile breaking through his defensive and headed into his Navigator. He had driven for ten minutes before he realized that he wasn't going in the right direction. He laughed humorlessly and turned the corner, eyes on the approaching brown wooden house.

A funny, uncomfortable feeling settled into his stomach and he realized what he had just agreed to. Dinner. At the Puckermans. With Puck.

"OH! MY! GOD!" He screamed and threw the vehicle into park, not even bothering to lock the door as he raced to the front door, "Mercedes! Mercedes!" he hollered threw the door, pounding his fist furiously against the metal of the door.

"Kurt! What in heavens name are you doing out here?" The door swung open to reveal the worried Mrs. Jones? "Are you okay? Kurt?"

He tried to respond, he really did, but he couldn't catch his breath, his cheeks were hurting from the smile he wore and his heart soared with possibilities.

"Kurt? What are you doing here? It's like nine..." Mercedes was cut off as Kurt lurched through the door and hugged her tightly. He retreated and gave Mercedes' mother a quick hug before bouncing up and down, giggling.

Strong hands latched on to his shoulders and pressed the heels of his feet to the floor. He came face to face with a frowning Mercedes, but all he could do, in means of explanation, was wrap his arms around her once again in a hug.

"I have a date!" he sang and spun in the little entrance, grinning ear to ear as bubbling laughter filled their house. Mercedes exchanged a glance with her mother, who smiled and headed up the stairs, kicking the door shut behind her. Kurt was dragged to the basement to explain.

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"How do I look? Do I look okay?" Kurt asked his father, running a hand down the front of his coat and frowning a bit. They had decided on casual but fancy, a warm purple shirt under a black tight coat.

Burt clasped his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "You look fine."

"_Fine_ won't cut it Dad!"

"You look fabulous!" Carol said, coming over to brush a bang off his forehead and hug him lightly around the shoulders, "Have fun!"

"I will!"

"Call if you need anything!"

"And if that boy hurts you tell him where I hid my shotgun."

"Chastity Belt!" Sam and Finn yelled from the living room, causing Kurt and Carol to giggle and Burt to frown. Before he went into detail about _that_ conversation, Kurt hugged him tightly and ran to the car, waving as he reversed and flew down the street.

As he took the last turn, his hands slid from the wheel and he lost control for a moment before straightening back out. Thankful, no one was around to see that horrendous display of nerves.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, thankful that they showed no marks because he got the feeling that he would be doing that _a lot_ tonight. He knocked quietly against the door, quickly checking his hair in the reflection against the glass.

The door squeaked open and Kurt met the gaze of a young girl, startling green eyes and soft, thick waves of brown hair. The eyes blinked through the tiny gap in the blue door and Kurt picked at the web between his fingers. "Hello. I'm Kur-" The door snapped closed and he bit his lip."-t" What now?

He could make out Puck's voice through the door, and a few seconds later the door opened to reveal a very casually dressed Puck. He didn't look any different than what he looked like at school, save for the smear of tomato paste across his nose. Kurt's heart sank like a stone, maybe he miss understood...

Puck's frown faded and a smile replaced it, "Hey, come on in, we're just finishing up." Kurt followed the boy through the house. Everything looked the same as the last time he had visited, the sparkling white tiles, the dark carpet, the old wooden table. Very homey. "Hey Mama, Kurt's here."

The women that had been crowded over the stove and showing the little girl how to stir with the wooden spoon, keeping the bottom of the pot from burning, turned and smiled. Kurt could tell that she had the same hair as Puck and Sara, only it was pulled into a tight bun. She walked over, wiping her hands on her white apron and shook his hand. "You were right, Noah, he does have the most amazing eyes!"

"Mama! Noah said not to say anything embarrassing! We might chase his boyfriend away!" Sara shouted from the stove, glaring over her shoulders and Puck buried his head in his hands.

Kurt, meanwhile, smiled hesitantly and tightly. Boyfriend. _His Boyfriend_, no he hadn't miss heard. She defiantly said boyfriend. That means Noah had told his family that he was...

"We better take that coat off, I don't think you want to get it dirty," Ms. Puckerman grabbed the coat and placed it gently over the back of a chair, smoothing it out.

Kurt realized, from his shock, that he should say something, "No, thank you. It's Armani." _Crap_. Why'd he say that? It was like, bragging or something. Kurt winced and stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, wishing for something to keep his hands occupied, keep his mouth shut.

"Here, would you chop theses up, honey?" she motioned to some tomatoes that sat in the middle of the kitchen island, Kurt nodded, shell shocked that he had been called _honey_. "I used to have an Armani sweater. Remember that Noah? You used to wear it around," she winked at Kurt as he pulled the cutting board and knife towards himself, he smiled shyly and started against the skin, "Pink and fuzzy. I guess that should have been a sign."

Sara joined him at the island, reaching over his board and grabbing a handful of tomato pieces and popping them into her mouth when her mother turned her back to them. Kurt grinned and tried not to laugh at poor Puck's embarrassment.

"Pink and fuzzy? Like those socks?" Sara asked innocently, ducking with experience as a noodle soared from the stove and across the

Kurt ducked his head, but kept his eyes trained to Puck, incase the boy thought it would be _fun_ to miss aim. The knife glistened with the juice from the fruit, and Kurt placed it on its side, next to the mound of tomatoes. "Mrs. Puckerman?" He asked, tightening his knuckles and rapping them quickly and quietly against the marble counter top. "Are theses alright?"

"Hm," she pondered, inspecting the pile, and Kurt felt his stomach tighten. Who knew that you could get nervous over the shape of chopped tomatoes, "These are perfect! Usually they're just smushy because someone can't use a kitchen knife."

The kitchen turned to look at Noah, but he briskly turned to dump the pasta into the ceramic bowl, some of the noodles slipped over the side and onto the counter.

"Would you mind bringing these over to Noah, sweetie? I should really get Sara cleaned up and changed. Plus, I want out of this apron!"

"Not at all, Mrs. Puckerman," Kurt smiled and gathered a handful of the tomatoes in his cupped palms.

"Call me Natalie, sweetie. Now come on Sara, lets get that tomato off you..." The women's eyes crinkled with youth and she tugged the girl up the stairs, mumbling something about feeding kids scraps.

Kurt walked carefully over the tile, hoping like hell that he wouldn't slip and get tomatoes everywhere, he stopped behind the other and cleared his throat, trying not to notice as Noah's muscles bunched up perfectly as he turned, bowl in hand. Kurt dropped the fruit and hastily went to grab the rest.

"Just plop them in there, please. I need to finish the sauce," Kurt nodded mechanically and walked over to the corner, where the counter rounded against the wall. Noah Puckerman had said _please_. If that wasn't a once in a god-damned lifetime moment, Kurt didn't know what was.

He hummed quietly under his breath, forcing his heels to stay level with the ground rather than popping off the ground in nervous habit. He placed the tomatoes strategically on the noodles, taking all the time in the world, because it occupied his hands, and his brain, for the most part.

But not occupied enough, for just as he dropped the last chunk to the noodles, it bounced slightly upwards off the soft noodles, and a warm being approached his back and a hand retracted over his shoulder, grasping out for one of the glass seasonings.

When the body finally moved away, very slowly, Kurt had to fight to control his breath. The sudden lack of body heat left him shivering ever so slightly, but mostly, he felt a blush rise to his cheeks.

Not the _oh-shit!_ Blush, or the embarrassed Blush, but the kind of that crept up on you and surprised you in the nicest of way. He hadn't realized how much he missed Puck until then. They fit together perfectly. Noah's head could rest easily on the crown of Kurt's, without having to make the taller boy lean down; Kurt's cradled easily in the strong arms that had once held him. Like two perfect sculptures.

Kurt spun and rested his hand on the counter, leaning back into the counter, double checking to make sure he wouldn't get hair in the food (but really, food in his fabulous clothes) he watched as Puck puttered over the steaming pot.

He took expert pinches of various spices and tossed them over the stove, watching with one eye as he twirled the spoon, and using the other to read the back of one of the bottles. Kurt was envious that the boy looked so calm, so natural in the kitchen.

Before Kurt could quite apprehend what was happening, Noah had clicked off the stove, dipped a shining spoon into the sauce and retracted it. Placing a cupped hand under the spoon, to catch any drips, he slowly made his way across the floor.

Kurt stood, paralyzed in the corner, watching as his partner stood before him, slowly placing the tip of the spoon to his mouth. The breathing of his heart, Kurt figured, could defiantly be heard from across the room, but he separated his lips slightly, allowing the cooled liquid to trickle into his mouth.

The sauce exploded over his tongue, but he wasn't aware of any of it; only the boy that was standing over him, inspecting him with, sad, lonely eyes. Kurt was lost in a sea of green, staring into the eyes he had _so_ missed.

Noah made a small, strangling sound before stepping half a step away. Kurt felt his eyes drop as the moment ended, falling to the spoon. A thin layer of sauce was over the majority of the spoon, save for the indentation his lips had left.

The stairs thundered as Sara rejoined them, clad in a purple princess pajama dress and fluffy tiara. She looked between the two boys; Puck had distanced himself, suspiciously, "The red sauce any good?" she asked, cocking her brow and placing a fist on her waist.

"Oh, yes," Kurt assured her, taking note of the wand in her other hand and the smile that had overtaken Noah's face. "Perfect amount of spices."

Natalie rejoined them, nose upturned and sniffing at the air, "Smells heavenly!" she gushed, smiling at the two boys, "Sara, make sure the tables got everything."

"Yes Mame!" Sara saluted with her wand and marched playfully out the door, humming the Fairy Godmothers songs and waving a farewell to Kurt.

Natalie clapped her hands and went to the stove, standing on her toes to look over Noah's shoulder and into the pot, "It's good then?" she quizzed, reaching for the spoon that, still, hung loosely from Noah's fingers.

Kurt watched, wide eyed as Noah _didn't_ warn him mother that it wasn't his spoon, but rather clicked the metal against his sparkling teeth. The metal that had, less than a minute ago, been in Kurt's mouth, been pressed against his tongue and engraved with his lips.

The pair laughed quietly at something Kurt missed and carried the pot over to the noodles, pouring them expertly into the bowl. Noah motioned Kurt to take the seat between him and Sara, across from Natalie. He complied, with a pang of pleasure in his heart and a soft smile on his lips.

Talked flowed easily, the three Puckerman's chatting easily around the table, Kurt listened, and smiled when he should smiled, laughed when Sara slurped a noodle and got sauce all over her face, wince when Natalie told a story about a patient who came in with a meatball stuck in his throat. Kurt made sure to chew the turkey meatballs all the way, and keep his noodles on his fork. Spaghetti? Not date food.

When the plates were empty, and stomachs were full, Noah stood to collect the silverware, popping the last of the meatballs into his mouth and winking at Kurt when his mother scorned him.

"So, Kurt? Noah has been working very hard on his duet, have you figured yours out yet?" Natalie asked, keeping him from helping clean up.

Kurt laced his fingers and placed them gingerly on his lap, "I...think so. I'm with Sam Evans, and it was difficult to get...focused." Because he kissed me, Kurt added, in his head.

"Oh, that Sam is such a goof!" Sara yawned widely and stretched her hands to the roof, eyes sliding closed on a full stomach. "Well, Kurt, it was really great having you for dinner, but I think that its time for _someone_ to get their book, and we'll get you to bed."

Sara nodded eagerly and jumped off her seat, going around the table to hug Kurt and give him a goodnight kiss, before towing her mother back up the stairs, "I think I want Anastasia! She was always siiiing!"

Kurt smiled faintly and grabbed his glass of water and the other three before carrying them carefully into the sink. Noah jumped a bit, when his socking feet made no noise, but he relaxed when he seen who it was.

"Still startles me, some." He admitted, blushing and focusing fully on washing the dishes.

Kurt munched on his lip, and looked out the window, it was getting dark, and he had school tomorrow. Noah looked so sad, though, over the sink, thinking about _that_ day. He placed a gentle hand over the many muscles on Noah's forearm, "I still have nightmares, sometimes."

Noah said nothing, but nodded gratefully and dried his hands off. "Mom asked me to grab the tomatoes tonight, but I couldn't leave my truck, when I got to the parking lot," his voice trailed off, and he looked alone again.

To their surprise, Kurt coughed a laugh, "I go to the other store, the one on the other side of town? Still makes me sweat." He met Noah's eyes and cleared his throat, looking back out the window, "It's getting late," _and I don't want to talk about this anymore._

"Yeah, and duets tomorrow, need our beauty rest," Puck placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder and led him towards the front door, grabbing his coat and holding it out as he slipped in, always the gentlemen. "'Cause, T and I? So going to win!"

His words were meant to be humorous, but his voice was tired, stained and hollow. Kurt stopped himself before climbing into the Navigator. His heart hurt, and that wasn't right. He should have to pick up the broken pieces. He shouldn't have let Noah fall apart in the first place. "You know, Noah," he said, meeting the others eyes, they softened greatly with his given name, "When your tired of talking to a doctor about something she doesn't understand, I will always be there. You just need to open your eyes."

Kurt turned to climb into the vehicle, but a strong hand restricted him, Noah closed the distance between them, wrapping his strong arms around Kurt, resting his cheek against the soft waves and clutching the coat in his hands. Kurt stood, wide-eyed against his chest, shocked before wrapping his arms around the torso and melting into the solid body.

Noah inhaled, breathing the scent of his lover in; mint with just a hint of cinnamon, stowing it away in his head, "I always loved that shampoo," he admitted before clutching the fragile body closer, "I can't do it, Kurt. I can't be _around_ you because I'm afraid I'll hurt you again. I-I couldn't lie with it if I hurt you. I can't live with it."

Kurt bit his lips closer together, fighting the tears that treated to pool, loosening his hands and standing limply in the embrace, "You've never hurt me, Noah." He means it; he had a bruise after they broke up, but he bruised easily, he never even realized Noah had hit him until he ran up those stairs.

Noah made a grunting noise, sighing and blowing some of Kurt's hair away from his nose. He released the boy and retreated, going into the house without a goodbye, or a see you tomorrow, leaving Kurt surprised at the sudden lack of heat and wincing when the door slammed shut.

He somehow managed to get home without crashing his Navigator, without breaking down and crying in his safe haven, without screaming out loud in traffic. When he got home, he past the living room, ignored the questions about how the date went, but headed down to his room.

The first thing he did was throw out the lilac and rosemary shampoo, leaving the cinnamon and mint on the shelf. The second thing he did was crawl into bed, fully clothed, save for the coat he had dropped to the ground and the shoes he had kicked off his feet. He curled around his pillow and tried not to cry himself to sleep.

He drifted off, however, not to the grocery store, for once, but rather to the moonlit clearing where he had his first date, first kiss.


End file.
